


Be Alright

by Nerisella



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Best Friends, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexual Scorpius, Coming Out, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Getting Together, Harry Potter Next Generation, Hogwarts, Lesbian Rose, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, Post-Canon, Romance, Slow Build, queer teens, this is really now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-09-08 06:54:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8834716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerisella/pseuds/Nerisella
Summary: Albus Severus Potter finds himself in an awful, dangerous, terrible situation - he's fallen in love with his best friend, Scorpius Malfoy. Oh, and someone's trying to kill him - but that's slightly more manageable.Now Al has to figure out what the hell is going on, and save his friendship before he ruins everything. And maybe - just maybe - he'll get more than he bargained for.





	1. All My Days

“You’re at it again, aren’t you?” Rose asks, utterly exasperated.

“No. What? No. Of course not.” But Albus can’t hide the reddening of his cheeks or the diverting of his eyes.

“Don’t lie, Al, you’re terrible at it.”

He ducks his head away from Rose, still refusing to meet her eyes.

“You’re just torturing yourself. Honestly, you call yourself Harry Potter’s son. Grow some bludgers and just _tell_ him already, before I get sick of your whining and do it myself.”

“Tell him? Are you kidding me? There’s - there’s no way - he’d never - you _can’t- ”_

 _“_ Relax, Al, I won’t. But you can’t just hide forever! He’s going to find out sooner or later.”

“Not if I can help it,” Al mumbles stubbornly.

Rose rolls her eyes, and stops walking. Al keeps going, so she places a hand on his arm to stop him, and it takes almost no effort. Rose thinks he should be embarrassed at being so easily controlled by his younger red-headed cousin, but Al doesn’t even notice she’s done it. He’s still thinking about Scorpius Malfoy, working himself into a complete panic.

“This isn’t just going to go away. You know that, right? Deal with your feelings like a regular wizard and talk to him, or stop complaining. Got it?”

Albus nods, although he definitely does not ‘got it’. He doesn’t think he ever will. He’s mortified even by just the _idea_ of telling Scorpius. But Rose can be a bit scary when she's frustrated, and he doesn't want to deal with that today. Or ever. But especially not today, and not about this.

“Good. I’m glad we had this talk," she says.

Al watches her hair bounce as she walks away, and he makes the decision to never again mention Scorpius when Rose is around.

* * *

 

Al isn’t quite sure when it happened. All he knows is that one day, he's watching Sco do his homework and admiring the adorable way his hair falls in his eyes. Instead of just fixing it with his hands, Sco’s deciding to blow air uselessly at it every few moments. And then, quite casually - in a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it sort of way - Al realises he wants to look at this image every day for the rest of his life. And then he thinks: isn’t that a strange thing to want for your best friend? And _then_ he thinks: … _shit_.

So one minute, Al is perfectly happy being oblivious to the closeness of his friendship with the adorkable Malfoy, and the next, it hits Al that he’s completely and utterly in love with this idiot.

And ever since then? Well, once his feelings had finally offered up a conscious representation of their existence, they wouldn’t shut up. It’s been annoying, to say the least. He can’t study with Sco looking so destructively attractive, what with the ludicrous amount of quill stains he always gets on his slender hands, and the way he absentmindedly chews the top of his quill as he thinks. Al can hardly sleep with the sound of Sco’s adorable little snoring sound filling the air. And Merlin, don’t even get him started on how certain phallic-shaped foods are forever ruined during breakfast time now.

When Albus realised the abundance of emotions crashing down on him with this terrible epiphany, he made a list. Al always makes lists to try and deal with things. It’s a way to sort through all the thoughts constantly racing through his brain at a mile a minute. The list for this particular situation states only three things.

_The List of Things Albus Potter Knows To Be Definitely True In Regards To The Insurmountable Scorpius Malfoy._

  1. Albus has feelings of a great and preposterous nature, in a probably permanent sort of way.
  2. This was very, very bad.
  3. No, like, really bad.



The third thing isn’t even really a thing. He’s only included it to emphasise how important the second thing is, but he decided that it still counts due to the important nature of how very, very bad this situation is. Some might say Al's overthinking the situation (not naming any names,  _Rose Weasley)_ , but he would vehemently disagree. He needs to be as prepared as possible to deal with this confusing mess.

Now, it isn’t bad for the reasons one might think. Albus's dad has always been unconditionally accepting of his children, so it was never a question of Al’s gayness being an issue. In fact, Al's family have known he prefers boys since he was approximately 8 years old, when little-Albus decided it would be appropriate to announce his insistent love for boys during the annual Potter-Weasley-and-friends Christmas meal. What a delightful shock _that_ was for everyone. Uncle Ron had made a joke about really taking after his namesake. Teddy Lupin was endlessly impressed with the display, offering a solid thumbs up and a head full of rainbow coloured hair. 

Later, when it came out that Teddy and James had been dating in secret for ages, no one picked a bone with the fact they’re both guys. So, no, Al isn’t particularly worried about that part of his situation.

And it isn’t like his dad will be mad at the whole ‘son of my enemy’ thing, either. At first, his dad struggled to comprehend how Al and Sco became instantly inseparable, but he got over it pretty quickly. The Potter-Weasley family learned to adapt to the unforeseen friendship, and Scorpius soon became as welcome in the family as Lily’s Alistair or Rose’s Helena. And okay, while full on homosexual love-fest life partners is a little harder to digest than plain old friendship, Al had faith his dad would be able to cope without any major jinxes or heart attacks. His dad would come around; he always does.

No, of course, the real problem lies at the feet of the blond boy with the crooked smile. Albus’s best friend ever since they first met on the train to Hogwarts and shook hands, bonding over their lack of Quidditch skills despite extreme family pressure to do well in the sport.

> “It just baffles me,” Scorpius had said at the time. “The scoring makes no sense. Why is the Snitch worth so much? It renders everything else a little pointless, don’t you think?”
> 
> “Exactly!” Al had exclaimed, maybe a little too enthusiastically. But he was so excited at having someone to talk to about Quidditch who wouldn’t hex him for his lack of appreciation, he didn't care. “The rules are dumb. Anyway, James always sends the bludgers at me and I’m hopeless at dodging them. He once broke my arm in three different places.”
> 
> “No way!” Sco grinned. “I nearly fell off my broomstick the first few times I tried to ride. My dad watched me like a hawk every time we practised for months.”
> 
> Albus sniggered at this. “I bet he was happy about that.”
> 
> “Ecstatic,” Sco joked back. “How did your dad take the news you weren’t going to be the next Quidditch super power?”
> 
> “Absolute denial. The worst case I’ve ever seen. My entire family kept telling him how hopeless I was - even my mum - and he wouldn’t listen to them. Kept saying something about it being in my blood, or whatever.”
> 
> “Being in your blood? The great Harry Potter actually said that?” Scorpius had asked, his eyes wide.
> 
> “I know, right? Never get between a man and his Quidditch, even the great Harry Potter. Especially the great Harry Potter. Anyway, he finally gave up on those dreams and let me read in my room instead of being subject to that special kind of torture.”
> 
> “My dad would probably kill me if I tried to stop playing. He wants me to try out for the Quidditch team next year."
> 
> "Do you think you'll do it?"
> 
> "No way. I'm at Hogwarts now. Dad couldn't make me touch a broom even if he wrote every professor here."
> 
> "That's probably for the best. My brother James is on the Gryffindor team, and he's a right prat. My cousin Rose wants to try out next year, too, and she'd knock anyone off their broom before they could even take off."
> 
> "What about your other sister?"
> 
> "Yep, she got the Quidditch skills too."
> 
> "And what did you get?"
> 
> "I guess I'm still trying to figure that out."
> 
> "...Me too," Scorpius admitted, nervously studying his shoes. This was when Al definitively decided he liked Sco - no matter what his family said.

From that train ride on, they were best friends. Nothing could come between them. Not family feuds, or bullies, or the stupid rumours the gossip newspapers start every so often.

Nothing… until now. Until this.

Al is all too aware that he’s in deep, deep trouble. He’s not really sure how he got here, and he definitely doesn’t know how he’s going to dig his way out of it. All he knows is that he needs to figure something out and fast, because Sco is starting to get suspicious, and Al isn’t going to be able to hold it in for much longer before everything explodes in his face.


	2. To Be Alone With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magical LTR plants, transfiguration spells gone awry, pens, and a Moment.

“Do you think he’d like the green, or the blue?”

James Sirius Potter is holding up two bunches of bewitched flowers. They’re supposed to sparkle rainbow when your wand tells it to, no matter where in the world you are. Albus thinks they’re the gayest things he’s ever seen.

“I think Teddy would like something a little more subtle,” Al tries to suggest.

“Are you kidding me? He loves this stuff,” James protests. Al knows for a fact that Teddy does not. Teddy just likes the boy behind them, and is too chuffed by receiving spontaneous presents to even dare deflate James’s enthusiasm. If Teddy isn’t going to say anything to protect himself from these abominations, Al is prepared to take that bullet. He likes Teddy. Teddy does not deserve this.

“James, you can’t send that. It’ll never get past security. They even sent back my birthday gift for him a few months ago, remember?”

“You tried to send him a Streeler egg. This is just a cute plant. Wait, not even. Between you and me? It’s a fake plant.”

“It’s _fake_? Wow. I never would have guessed.”

“Do you have to be such an arse all the time?” James says.

“Do you have to be such a whipped love-sick puppy all the time?” Al says.

“You’re just jealous I have someone to be whipped by.”

“Oh my god, stop talking.”

James sniggers, and skips ahead. Then he turns around and shouts out as loudly as possible: “I LOVE TEDDY LUPIN, AND I AM NOT AFRAID TO SHOUT IT!”

Al buries his face in his hands. James’s voice has disturbed a flock of birds nearby, and they go flying in a scattered formation, chirping angrily at the deranged Gryffindor for disturbing the peace. Poor birds. Al can relate.

“I LOVE TEDDY LUPIN! I AM IN LOVE! WITH THE MOST BEAUTIFUL - BOY - EVER!” James is continuing to skip down the path.

Al follows him indignantly. Most of him is mortified by this outrageous display. But there’s a part of him that’s happy to see his brother like this. He’s seen his brother in some pretty bad places before, and he’s glad Teddy is giving him something to be happy about now. Against his better judgement, a smile makes its way onto Al’s face, and he reluctantly lets it stay.

“Yes!” James shouts triumphantly. “The stone cold Slytherin does feel emotions, ladies and gentlemen!”

“Yeah yeah, alright,” Albus rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling.

James comes and takes his arm, and pulls him into a skip down the path, until Al manages to break free and runs for the hills. James tackles him, and they both go flying to the ground. Al puts up a good fight, but James ultimately wins, and then they lie on the grass for a while, gazing up at the cloudy blue sky. Al is slightly breathless for a few moments, but James recovers quickly. God damn Quidditch players, Al thinks.

“So,” James says after a few minutes of silence. His tone is less playful, and more serious. “What’s the deal with you and Sco?”

Al is so shocked by this question his heart almost stops. He starts to panic.

“Nothing is the deal. There is no deal,” Al says curtly.

“Relax, little bro,” James says, keeping his tone calm and casual, but Al can hear there’s a hint of Protective Big Brother in there now, too. “Just wanna make sure you’re okay. I know it can’t be easy.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Al says obnoxiously.

“And if you ever want to talk about it, I am here. Even if you don’t want to acknowledge it sometimes, I’m older and wiser and have been through this all before,” James continues, ignoring Al’s denial completely.

“That’s impossible, because there’s nothing to have gone through. Nothing is happening.”

“Well, that’s your problem, isn’t it?”

Al shuts up. He sighs. There’s no point in arguing it anymore. James knows him too well. A silence passes between them, and then:

“He’s kind of cute, isn’t he?” James says playfully.

“Don’t you dare,” Al warns.

“You’ve done well for yourself, scamp.”

“Shut up right now.”

“You’ll have cute little socially awkward Potter-Malfoy babies. Imagine the look on dad’s face!”

“Similar to the look for when he found out you were snogging his godson?”

“Priceless,” James grins, like it’s one of his most glorious moments, instead of the insult Al was going for.

A comfortable silence settles between them again, until Al breaks it.

“Merlin, why did you bring up our potential babies?” he groans. “I thought you wanted to make this easier for me.”

“I never said any such thing. I said you could talk to me about it, that’s all. I promise that I’ll never promise to make anything easy for you, little brother.”

“Prat,” Al says.

“Git,” James replies.

And then, “so when are you going to tell him?”

Albus groans. He says: “Not you, too.”

“Someone else knows?” James exclaims. “How? What! There are now at least three people who know of your undying love for Scorpius Malfoy-” at this, Al shushes him and frantically looks around to see if anyone is near, but James continues on - “but you haven’t told the actual dude yet? Merlin, Al.”

“What?” Al protests. “Is that so uncommon?”

“For a gay boy at Hogwarts? Yes. It is. Rumours get around faster than a magical STD in this place. You need to tell him before someone else does.”

“No one is telling anyone anything,” Al says. But James gives him a dubious look that says _grow up_. Albus continues. “Besides, there’s nothing to tell. It’s not a thing. Why is everyone trying to make this a thing?”

“Merlin, Al, because it _is_ a thing. Don’t be daft. You can spot it from a mile away.”

“I’m not that obvious,” Al says defensively, but there’s a hint of worry slipping through.

“Oh yes you are,” James insists. “To the trained eye, you may as well be yelling it from the rooftops. ‘My poor tortured soul, I am in love with my best friend and it’s the worst thing to happen to anyone ever! Woe is me! I’m a Slytherin!’” James drops his (terrible) impression of Al, and looks him squarely in the eye. “Seriously, Al. The more honest you are with him now, the less mess you’ll cause. Don’t be thick. It doesn’t have to be an all or nothing situation.”

Albus narrows his eyes. “You realise who you are, right? You realise who this is coming from.”

“Do as I say, not as I do,” James shrugs, and then turns back to the clouds. “It’s your life, little brother. Just don’t mess it up. If not for you, do it for me. I like Sco, he’s a good kid.”

Albus sighs. He knows his brother is right, but it’s a hard pill to swallow. It might take a few tries, and he might have to cut it up and consume it in instalments. He isn’t ready to take the whole thing just yet.

Al just can’t shake the feeling that the world is going to disappear from under his feet when Scorpius finds out the truth. And if he can prolong that from happening, then you can bet he’s going to do everything he can to make that happen.

“So,” James says, finally. “The green plant, or the blue one?”

“Definitely green,” Al answers.

“Such a Slytherin,” James tuts. “Blue it is.”

Al rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling again.

 

* * *

  

When Scorpius gets back to the common room that night, he immediately notices something is amiss.

“Al? What are you doing?”

Al is trying to turn a pen into a snake. It isn’t working. In fact, every time he tries, he shrinks the pen a little bit more. He tries one last time, hoping that the added pressure of Sco as an audience will make his magic perform properly for once. It doesn’t. The pen splits in two, and ink goes rushing everywhere.

“Merlin, Al!” Sco exclaims, and hurries to find his wand to clean up the mess. “What is going on?”

“I’m trying to get creative with transfiguration,” Al confesses. “It’s not going so well.”

“You’re trying to transfigure a _pen_? You know McGonagall wouldn’t touch one of those things if her life depended on it.”

“That’s exactly why I’m trying to come up with a spell for it. Times are changing, Sco. Pens are the new rising star of stationary, it’s only fair to include some useful spells for them.”

“What were you trying to do with it?”

“…Turn it into a snake.”

“A _snake_? Remind me to never let you out of my sight. Give that here.”

Scorpius picks up the pen and places it squarely in the middle of the table Al is working from. He pulls his wand out of his back pocket and casts _reparo_ , fixing the broken pen by returning it back to it’s original state.

“It is so - annoying - that Binns won’t let us use pens in his class,” Scorpius is saying now, flicking his wand in a bunch of different ways. Al isn’t sure what exactly he’s trying to achieve. “He doesn’t seem to even notice us when we’re there most of the time, but if you’ve got a pen in your hand? Nope, no can do, you’ve committed a great sin against the history of magic.”

“He’s old school. Can’t cope with change. Ironic, isn’t it, considering he tracks the change of magic throughout time.”

“Why does everyone insist on using quills? Just for the aesthetic?” Scorpius is saying.

“I think dad’s a bit embarrassed that his son is the pioneer of pens being introduced to Hogwarts,” Al muses. “I got a stern letter last week about it. ‘ _Respect the rules your teachers have in place, Al, even if you don’t understand the reasons why…’_ load of bollocks, really, but I appreciate that he tried.”

Sco looks up at him and laughs. “Come here,” he says fondly, and puts his own wand on the desk so he’s free to grab Al’s instead. But he doesn’t take it from him - he reaches over to put his hand over top of Al’s, and just stays there. Holding the wand together.

Al freezes, everything tenses up, and the stomach butterflies rush back all at once. He feels a little nauseous. His heart skips a beat and then pulsates a little quicker, and his breath catches in turn. Sco is really very close now. He smells of soap and freshly washed robes. Al just hopes Sco isn’t close enough to realise the effect it’s having.

Sco glances back at Al to make sure he’s watching, and then back at the pen.

“So just move your wand like this - here,” Sco moves Al’s hand, showing him the correct movement. Al scrambles to focus on what Sco is telling him to do, not just the feeling of Sco’s hand on his. It’s harder than anticipated.

“Okay, now you try,” Sco says, but he doesn’t remove his hand. Al hesitates, waiting for him to let go. When it becomes apparent he’s not going to do that, Al tries to repeat the movement with Sco’s hand still there.

“Good - but make sure you flick up like this at the end,” Sco says, moving Al’s hand as he speaks. The firm movement makes Al’s knees weak, and he forces himself to take a deep breath. _Get it together, Al_ , he thinks.

“Try again.”

Al does as Sco says, and he’s rewarded with a smile that makes his stomach butterflies dance.

“Perfect.” Sco removes his hand, finally, and the lack of contact leaves Al feeling momentarily lost. His skin tingles in the place Sco’s hand was. Al takes a deep breath, trying not to think about where else he would like Sco’s hands, and concentrates on the pen.

“Use _venitias_ ,” Sco says thoughtfully.

“ _Venitias,_ ” Al casts dutifully, completing the appropriate wand work. He feels the surge of magic pass through his body and into his wand, and then find its target in the pen. The pen quivers for a bit, then starts to shake profusely, and then slowly starts to transform. Sco starts to laugh.

The pen has been transfigured into a quill.

Al glares daggers at him. If looks could kill, Sco would be six feet under already. 3 years ago, probably.

“I swear - I didn’t know that was going to happen,” Sco says in between laughs. Al narrows his eyes at him.

“Typical,” Al says, but he goes to write the spell down in his notes anyway. “At least you can appease Binns now.”

“Just have to figure out how to transfigure it back,” Sco agrees. He offers Al a huge grin, one of accomplishment and pride, and Al’s annoyance immediately fades away. Merlin, he’s so gorgeous when he’s happy. And sad. And probably any time, ever. Al can’t help but smile in return, and then they’re grinning at each other.

Sco is smiling at Al in such a fond way, it makes his heart soar. Al has to remind himself it doesn’t mean anything, this is just what friends do, it doesn’t always have to mean anything. But it still doesn’t stop the feelings from spreading through Al’s body and making him feel light, and for once, Al lets himself indulge in it, just a little. He smiles back.

It’s funny how time works. Your perception of it changes depending on what you’re doing. When Al’s in charms class, something he’s utterly miserable at, time ticks slower than ever. But right now, in this moment, sitting in silence and smiling at his best friend, letting _something_ pass between them… it's like time has _actually_ stopped. You could fit entire lifetimes in here.

Until suddenly Sco isn’t smiling anymore, and the moment is over. He looks away awkwardly, frowning, and gets up to fiddle with the fire.

Al’s heart drops.

This is exactly why he usually doesn’t let himself indulge in it too much - because it always ultimately ends, leaving him feeling worse than he did beforehand. Sco didn’t feel that spark of electricity like Al did - he couldn’t have. It’s hard to wrap your head around sometimes, because it is such an intense and powerful feeling that it’s almost impossible to believe the other person isn’t feeling it too - but you have to believe it, because otherwise you’ll drive yourself mad.

Madder than Al already is, anyway.

Al looks down and picks at a stray thread on his shoes, trying desperately not to look at Sco, even though he’s now hyperaware of every move he makes. He’s tinkering with the green flame in the fireplace, and then sits down on the chair opposite Al’s.

Al realises his problem is starting to get bigger. The longer these stupid feelings stick around, the more obvious it gets, and the more chance there is of Sco finding out.

But then Sco smiles, and he looks so cool and collected and comfortable being in Al’s presence that it nearly destroys him.

Al wants to shake Scorpius, tell him to wake up and figure out what’s going on. He wants it to end so badly - the pains in his chest and the stomach butterflies are becoming almost unbearable. He's not sure how much longer he can keep dealing with it. But he has to remind himself that the pain if Sco finds out will be much worse. He'd never want to speak to him again, it would be terribly awkward, and things would change instantly. Al would rather have Sco under painful conditions than not at all.

Things are better off this way, Al tries to convince himself. But... being in love with your best friend and having to keep it bottled up so tightly is pure torture. It's becoming harder and harder to keep believing it can get any worse than this.

Sco is fiddling with the quill now, not even paying attention to Al. He's grateful for it, because if Sco were to see the look on his face he'd instantly know something's wrong. On the other hand, there is a small part of Albus that is almost begging him to look up, just so he could ask and Al could tell him everything.

But Sco doesn't look up, and Al's brief moment of insanity passes before he can say anything he'll regret.


	3. Crawled Out Of The Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al gets very sick. Scorpius looks after him.

Al wakes up the next morning and immediately regrets it.

It feels like he’s been eaten by a dragon, chewed up, and then spat back out again. It takes him a concerted effort to pry his eyes open, and when he tries to roll over and pull his bed curtains back, his muscles scream. He goes to ask if Sco’s awake, and immediately feels razor blades against his throat. No sound comes out. Just pure, unadulterated pain.

His head is pounding, he can’t swallow, and he’s just noticed a thin layer of sweat all over his body.

Al can’t wrap his head around what’s happening. He never gets sick. Never. His parents gave him all the required shots at all the required ages, and his Aunt Hermione’s excellent at whipping up preventative healing potions whenever any of the Potter-Weasley kids show any signs of getting sick. It’s been years since something like this happened to any of them - three years ago, to be precise, when James came down with a mild case of Dragon Pox. They had to quarantine a quarter of the house just in case, but no one else got sick. Everyone was very worried - he had to go to Hogwarts two weeks late. Teddy was the designated family member to stay home and take care of James, and Al has his suspicions that this is exactly when James’s crush first developed.

The last time _Al_ got sick was when he was six years old and spent the whole week in bed with a nasty bout of the flu that just wouldn’t go away. Today, he feels much worse than that.

Today, he feels as though he might die.

He groans, even though it hurts his throat to do so, but he can’t speak and he needs to bring Sco’s attention to what’s happening, or the middle Potter child is going to die here all alone. Imagine the headlines on that one.

“Al?” a husky voice calls out. “Is that you?”

Al musters up his courage, tenses up in preparation for the pain, and then groans again.

“You okay?” Sco says, his voice soft and his speech slightly slurred, and Al realises he must have just woken up. For the first time, Al realises that it’s dark in the room, and a pang of guilt hits him.

“Sorry,” he manages to croak out.

Al hears footsteps, and then the sound of his curtain being pulled back. Even though it’s dark, his eyes quickly adjust to see the tall figure looming over his bed, taking him in.

“Merlin,” Sco breathes. Before Al can respond, or warn Sco to stay back lest Al be contagious, he feels a hand on his forehead, and then his cheeks. And suddenly, there’s light, but it’s so blinding that Al has to shut his eyes before he can figure out where it came from.

“Oh, Merlin, Al,” Sco says, and there’s panic in his voice. This does not soothe Al’s fears of death. Sco continues to panic: “Shit. Um. Give me a second.”

And then he’s gone. Al brings a hand up to shield his eyes from the light until he can adjust properly, even though it’s useless because the throbbing pain is blurring his vision anyway. He clenches his teeth tightly and grimaces when he tries to readjust his position, making the pain jolt through his body.

And here he had been yesterday, naively complaining about the torturous pain of being in love with someone you can’t have. Al thinks everyone always takes being healthy for granted until they’re not healthy anymore. He is no exception to this rule.

In seconds or minutes or hours (Al can’t be too sure which) Sco returns with a wet cloth and places it on Al’s forehead.

“You’re so hot,” Sco breathes.

“Thank you,” Al chokes out, and Scorpius almost drops the cloth.

“Can’t be too bad if you’re making jokes,” Sco laughs weakly, a hint of relief spreading over his face. The sight instantly makes Al feel better.

“No, but seriously,” Sco tries again. “You’re burning up. I’ve only ever seen a fever like this before when-”

Scorpius cuts himself off, and the sentence hangs in the air. Al feels awful when he realises what Sco was about to say. The only time he’s seen a fever like this is when his mother died.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Sco hurries to say. “Hey, don’t give me that face. You’re okay. I’m going to make sure you’re okay, alright?”

Sco’s rambling, but his voice is soft and smooth and Al lets himself enjoy the feeling of the cold wet cloth on his forehead, and the feeling of Sco’s hands rubbing up and down his arm. He closes his eyes and rests his head to the side, and Sco’s voice travels in and out.

“No, no, stop that, open your eyes-” Al hears Sco say distantly. “Don’t go to sleep on me, I don’t know what you’ve got yet, you have to stay awake until I can get someone to check you out…”

But sleep is edging at his consciousness, and he wants the pain to disappear, and he’s so comfortable lying here with Sco’s company.

“Er… What did you talk to James about yesterday?” Sco asks suddenly, and the question drags Al out of his daze.

“What?” Al tries to say, and it hurts his throat like never before. He winces, and Sco takes his hand, tightening his grip. Al should be alarmed by this unfamiliar gesture, but the sensation is nice and he doesn’t have enough healthy brain cells to devote to analysing it right now.

“When you saw James. What did he say?”

“He said…” Al winces, trying to remember. “He said you’re a good kid.”

“Oh,” Sco says, and Al can’t tell if he’s amused or alarmed. “He said that?”

“Shh,” Al says. It’s aimed at himself - he doesn’t want to give too much away - but Sco ignores him anyway.

“Teddy wrote me this week,” Scorpius tries again. “He says he’s having an excellent time researching in Australia, but he misses us all very much.”

“James the most, though,” Al says, and Scorpius laughs softly.

“Yes, he does seem to have a weird thing for your brother. Merlin knows why.”

“Gryffindors,” Al tries to say spitefully, but it comes out as a slurred mess and is followed by an intense coughing fit. Al sits up and hunches over his bed, trying to control the coughing, but it doesn’t stop until a few minutes have passed. When his body stops lurching, Sco gently guides his body back down onto the bed so that he’s lying down again. Al catches a glimpse of Sco’s face, and it’s paler than he’s ever seen it. Sco stands up, looks at the door, then back at Al, and hesitates.

“Listen, if I leave you for like 5 minutes, are you going to be okay?”

“No,” Al says immediately. Sco looks back at the door once more, very obviously conflicted about what to do here.

“Al, you’re coughing up blood,” Sco says gravely. Al looks down at his bed and notices some bright red splotches that definitely weren’t there before.

“Oh,” Al coughs out. And then, in a much smaller voice, “please don’t leave.”

Sco looks back at the door once more, and then makes a frustrated noise. He sits down on the bed, and takes Al’s hand again. It’s nice and comforting and it gives Al a distraction to focus on.

“What have you done to yourself?” Scorpius whispers under his breath, and it isn’t a question he expects Al to answer.

Al closes his eyes again and leans into Sco’s touch, wishing it didn’t come at such a great price. His eyes have started to sting in reaction to the pain, and his body is jerking every few seconds.

“Al? I’m going to pick you up, alright?” Scorpius gently says after a few moments, and Al murmurs his understanding.

Sco gently wraps his arms around Al, trying to pry him from the bed. Al obediently wraps his arms around Sco’s neck and holds him there. When Sco finally manages to get all of Albus into his arms and support his weight, he picks him up, and Al buries his head in Sco’s chest, breathing in the familiar comforting scent. He grabs onto Sco’s t-shirt and does not let go. He winces in pain, every inch of him feeling like fire. He can’t think of any other way to get through it than to cling to Scorpius desperately. Al closes his eyes as Scorpius carries him out of their dormitory, out of the common room, and through the dark corridors of Hogwarts.

When they finally stop, Scorpius calls out to someone, and Al blinks his eyes open again. It’s still dark, but Al can immediately tell they’re in the hospital wing.

“What’s all this racket?” calls an irritated voice that can only belong to Madame Pomfrey.

“He’s ill,” Scorpius explains simply, and Al feels both of their gazes on him.

“Mr. Potter?” the stern voice says sharply. “Get him on the bed - over here.”

Al feels himself being moved again, through a curtain and into a new room, until he feels the loss of Scorpius’s touch as he’s transferred onto a bed. Madame Pomfrey immediately shoos Scorpius aside and starts examining Albus.

“Merlin and Dumbledore on a toffee stick,” the old woman hisses as she pokes and prods him.

“Sco?” Al asks meekly, confused.

“Sorry, Al. You really don’t look good,” Sco says apologetically. “I had to bring you.”

“And not a moment too soon. Any later and we’d _all_ be in trouble,” the old woman says as she takes a potion from the shelf and forces Al to drink it. It tastes of old eggs and rotten apples, and he nearly vomits. “I haven’t seen anything like this in years. Preposterous! Who do they think they are, targeting young students! Minister Weasley will have to hear about this, of course, and the whole thing will blow up - the school will be in question for months-”

“What’s wrong with him?” Sco interrupts.

“Poison,” Madame Pomfrey says curtly. “Double the required dose to get the job done. Someone really didn’t want to take any chances.”

“Poison?” Scorpius exclaims. “What sort of poison? Who would want to poison Al?”

“Bloodroot,” Madame Pomfrey answers curtly, ignoring the second question. “It’s turning his body against itself.”

“Is he going to be okay?” Sco asks, alarmed, and Madame Pomfrey makes a sound of discomforting unsureness.

“He’s certainly not going to like what comes next,” she says cryptically. “Out.”

Scorpius hesitates, looking back at the other room. Al can tell he doesn’t want to leave.

“I said _out_ , Mr. Malfoy,” Madame Pomfrey repeats as she works, not even glancing up at him. Al watches as his best friend slinks away from the room, and hears him take a seat somewhere on the other side of the curtain. He desperately hopes Madame Pomfrey will let Scorpius stay the night.

* * *

Whatever’s happening to Al, he’s never experienced anything like it, and he hopes he never has to again. It’s an awful, intolerable kind of pain that burns at your core and makes you delirious with the stench of it. He’s almost blind - everything is being processed as angry red outlines against a pure black background. And the pain is just _so much_ that he keeps passing out from it… just drifting in and out of consciousness as someone moves over him, poking and prodding his body in a million different ways.

Sometimes it will relieve him of pain, sometimes it will intensify by ten and force him to lose consciousness again.

He doesn’t know if he can get through it.

There isn’t anything concrete for him to hold onto until it’s over, nothing to stabilise him and keep him here.

And then he remembers: _Scorpius Malfoy_.

Al tries to keep thinking about him - his adorable hair, his crooked smile, his strong touch and his good heart. Anything he can possibly remember to help him hold on.

_Sco, Sco, Sco, Sco._

It’s the one beautiful thing in this painful night that keeps him fighting the poison.

He closes his eyes. And stirs. And when he opens them again, the woman is gone, the room is dark, and Scorpius Malfoy is standing over him.

He’s not in so much pain anymore. However, this also means that his nerves are available to feel the freezing cold air in the room, and he shivers.

“Bit nippy in here,” he tries to joke, but his throat is hoarse and tired and it comes out as a jumbled mess. The dark figure who can only be Sco steps forward. He says something, but Al’s too tired to understand it.

“Very… ‘m… cold…” Al says.

Sco’s outline stops. Al thinks maybe he’s just seeing things now, and Sco isn’t really there… but then the figure moves to search through his own pockets.

“Bugger,” the figure says.

“I know, isn’t it freezing?” Al tries to say, but again - it’s a stupid mess of sounds.

“Oh, for the love of…” Sco whispers. He looks around as if someone’s about to come in and attack him, but then he looks back and starts to climb into bed with Al.

Al’s not prepared to deal with the proximity of another body - he’s still adjusting to his own. He tries to shuffle over for Sco, but his legs are like jelly and his strength is all but gone, so Scorpius has to do most of the work. Al is almost positive he’s dreaming now. But it’s a nice dream, so he presses his face into Sco’s chest and snuggles in.

He’s warmer already.

* * *

When Al finally wakes up, it’s to the muffled sound of various adults arguing. It takes him a moment to find his bearings - he’s in bed. In the hospital wing. And he’s… sleeping next to Scorpius Malfoy. Al’s head is on his chest. They are very close, and Al is very confused.

When he looks up at Scorpius, he realises his best friend is already awake, and listening quietly to the voices outside. Sco bings up a finger to his own mouth and mouths “ _shh”_. He doesn’t even acknowledge the fact that they’re… kind of… cuddling. But Al understands the clear message of urgency and turns his focus to the voices.

“…Absolutely despicable,” his mother is saying. Al can hear the anger in her voice; she’s fuming. “How could you let this happen?”

“Ginny, please, right now we are doing everything we can to control the situation…” Professor McGonagall is saying.

“What my wife is trying to say,” his dad says evenly, “is that we’re obviously very concerned about our children’s safety, especially after everything we went through as students here…”

“And that is exactly why there should already be stricter security measures in place,” Al’s mum argues.

“I am taking this matter _extremely_ seriously, and I am willing to discuss our best course of action with the both of you,” McGonagall says firmly. She is one scary lady, Al thinks, and his mum must be really mad to pick a bone with her.

“I’ve already spoken with Hermione,” his dad says authoritatively, “she’s given me the green light to pull any resources I need to investigate the matter. I’ve got aurors at my disposal for protection at the school, if it comes to that, and if you share all the information you can with us… we should be able to find the culprit within a week.”

“Aurors will not be necessary, Mr Potter.”

“Better than dementors,” Al’s mum says, but she says it so quietly Al’s not sure he’s heard her correctly.

“When can we see him?” his dad says.

“The boy is still asleep,” a new voice says: Madame Pomfrey. “He needs as much undisturbed rest as he can get.”

“Please, follow me somewhere a little more private to discuss our options whilst we give him more time,” Professor McGonagall says. There’s a silent pause, and Al’s almost completely sure that his mum is about to come busting into the room and throw herself at him instead. She’d find him cuddled up to Scorpius Malfoy. Wouldn’t that be awkward.

But to his surprise, he only hears footsteps, becoming quieter the further away they get.

The two boys are left in silence. Al slowly turns his head up to meet Sco’s eyes. There’s something awkward about the glance they share.

“You’re in my bed,” he states obviously.

“Yeah. You were cold, and then you wouldn’t let me leave,” Sco explains, and Al blushes.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, looking down.

“Hey, don’t be sorry about _that_. Be sorry about… you know, the whole nearly dying thing. Scaring the hell out of everyone. All of that.”

“I nearly died?” Al asks.

“Er… That’s what they’re all saying, anyway,” Scorpius looks away. He is absolutely trying to play it cool, but Al knows him way too well for him to get away with it. Both of them know fully well that _“they all”_ tend to spread rumours and gossip that couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s Scorpius’s opinion Al really cares about.

“Did I scare _you_?” Al asks nervously, his voice small now. Scorpius looks at him like he’s not sure how much he should say.

“…Yeah. You were… I mean, it was really bad, Al. For a while there I really thought I was going to lose you.”

“Oh,” Al says, looking away. He doesn’t know how to feel about all of this. It’s awkward, and he feels really bad for freaking everyone out because he’s fine _now_ , but it’s also very surreal and Al’s kind of scared about it, too.

“Sorry,” Al says again, not sure he can put into words how strange and… weirdly guilty he feels?

“Stop saying sorry,” Sco chides. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You did really well, actually - you made it through the night, and Madame Pomfrey seemed to think that was an amazing feat in and of itself.”

“Looks like I had a little help,” Al teases before he can stop himself. He meant it as a joke, but it’s brought attention to their current physical situation and now it’s just awkward. Sco looks embarrassed - his cheeks tinge red and he glances away.

“Yeah. Sorry. It’s just - you were shivering, and I’ve left my wand in our dorm, and I didn’t want Madame Pomfrey to come back and fuss and fill you up with even more potions to make you drowsier than you already were…”

“It’s fine, Sco,” Al cuts him off, trying to reign in his worrying rambles. “Really. I… I appreciate it. Thank you.”

Scorpius looks even more embarrassed at this.

“Least I could do,” he says bashfully.

Al wishes he hadn’t said anything. Scorpius was just trying to be a good friend, and now Al’s made it weird and probably reaffirmed Scorpius’s decision that nothing further is ever going to happen between the two of them again. Urgh. He keeps getting this stuff _wrong_ and it’s only inching them closer to complete annihilation of the friendship. But then Al remembers what James said about being open and honest, and it makes him very nearly say something to Sco right then and there… maybe ‘ _thanks for saving my life, oh by the way, I’m in love with you’_ or maybe ‘ _it’s nice we’ve shared a bed now, let’s do it all the time but in a romantically sexual kind of way’_ … nothing seems right, and Al knows it’d sound even more ridiculous out loud.

“Really. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Al settles for instead.

“Same here, Al. So please don’t ever do this again, because I don’t want to be forced to find out.”

“I will try my best not to be the target of planned attacks in the future,” Al quips, but he is secretly very glad Scorpius feels that way.

“Thanks, that would be most considerate of you,” Sco jokes back. He’s smiling down at Al now, and there’s a moment where Al completely forgets how to breathe. But the moment quickly passes, and they both look away.

“Mum sounded really angry. I wonder what they're going to do,” Al says - half trying to fill the space, half concerned about the matter at hand.

“I don’t know. They were saying before - did you hear this bit? - that it must have been a lone wolf attack, because of how it happened. Apparently someone Imperio’d Rose to slip the poison into your food.”

“They Imperio’d _Rose_?” Al exclaims, nearly jumping up out of the bed. “What the hell?”

“She’s a mess,” Scorpius says, validating his outrage. “She came in crying an hour ago, begging to see you and apologise, but Pomfrey wouldn’t let her through.”

“Merlin,” Al breathes. “I feel so… awful for her.”

“Me too,” Scorpius admits. “She might be a bit… well, _you know_ … but no one deserves that.”

“I hope they find them,” Al says bitterly. “Dad’s really good. He’ll find them. I’m sure he’ll find them - right?

“Yeah. He’s got to. He always does,” Sco says obediently, but Al isn’t convinced he really thinks so.

Merlin, Al thinks, this whole thing is so bizarre and terrifying. Not for the first time, Albus feels incredibly lucky that Scorpius is here by his side.

“This isn’t one of those things that’s just going to go away by lunch time, is it?” Al groans.

“I doubt it.” Sco says honestly.

There’s a shuffling noise from the front of the room while the curtains flap open, and the two of them freeze as they stare at the entrance, like deer caught in headlights.

“Jeez, get a load of you two,” James says with a huge smirk on his face. Al could _kill_ him. Both for interrupting the moment, and for making it weird again.

“Sod off,” Albus says, but he’s embarrassed at getting caught out like this, and he hurries to detach himself from Scorpius. Merlin knows all the things James could say right now, and Al’s life would be ruined in an instant. Al suddenly notices that Scorpius is hesitating; he doesn’t just jump off the bed like Al thought he would. Even with James standing right there, teasing them. Al isn’t sure what to make of that.

“No, no, please don’t stop on my account,” James taunts. If Al wasn’t so scared about what Madame Pomfrey would do to both of them if he even attempted to get up right now, James would be on the ground in two seconds flat. Luckily for James, Al is quite scared of Madame Pomfrey.

He wants to explain that it isn’t what it looks like, but Al realises that _it_ _kind of is_. Al could have forced Scorpius to get up as soon as he’d woken up - it’s not like he’s cold anymore - but he didn’t do that because of… well, probably because of all the reasons James is thinking about right now. Because… it feels nice, and because Al is selfish and wants to enjoy it for a little bit longer. So yes, it probably is a little bit what it looks like.

“What can I do for you?” Al asks tersely instead.

“ _Obviously_ I’m here to make sure you’re alright, you tosser. Mum and dad are furious - they’re talking about sending us all home for the week _at least_. McGonagall is trying to reason with them as we speak.”

“So we’ve heard,” Al says helpfully.

“They’ve every right to be angry, obviously, everyone’s shocked you’re even alive. And the whole thing is so strange… an attack on Hogwarts in _our_ generation? It’s just so _weird_.”

“It’s unheard of,” Scorpius says. “I still can’t believe it. I didn’t know how much… I’m - I’m just glad he made it through.”

Al is shooting James a warning look that says _shut up right now, don’t you dare say anything_ , but James doesn’t even notice. He’s staring back at Scorpius and mirroring his serious expression. It’s weirding Al out a little bit.

“It’s a hard thing to wrap your head around,” James agrees. “Lily, Rose, and Hugo are waiting just outside. It feels like we’re awaiting a prison sentence, to be honest. I snuck past Pomfrey to check on you before we receive the verdict.”

“Thanks, James. That’s… uncharacteristically nice of you,” Al says suspiciously.

“Oi! It is very characteristically nice of me, thank you very much,” James says, pouting dramatically.

“I beg to differ,” Al retorts, but he doesn’t really mean it. He’s actually really glad James is here and that they’re both healthy enough to bicker.

James turns to Scorpius and narrows his eyes. Al is almost sure he’s about to say something stupid and irreversible - something like _what are your intentions with my little brother?_ \- but he doesn’t. Instead, he reaches out to Scorpius in a way Al hasn’t seen him do before.

“The whole school is talking about what you did,” James says seriously. “Thanks for saving him. I’m glad you were there.”

Al suddenly feels a surge of warmth and pride at James’s blatant appraisal of Scorpius, and he tries to hide his smile. Before Scorpius can respond, though, they all hear footsteps and look to the source of it - behind the curtain.

“All that aside, though, mum and dad are coming - you’d probably be best to… you know…” James says, staring at the two boys cuddling, and motioning for them to split.

“Right, yeah, of course. Sorry Al…” Sco says immediately, fumbling out of the bed. James watches him with an amused expression, and it takes every part of Al’s willpower not to say something snarky. Thankfully, Scorpius doesn’t notice James’s expression or realise why he’s making it. He’s out of the bed and into the bedside chair just in time for Al’s mum and dad to pull back the curtain and enter the room.

“Albus Severus Potter!” his mum cries, and immediately launches herself at him.

“Ow, hi, mum,” he says, his voice muffled by her tight hug. She squeezes him again and his cheeks burn up, but after a moment he relaxes into the hug and lets himself indulge in the unconditional love she’s giving. He’s suddenly aware that he hasn’t seen her in ages, and although he wouldn’t be caught dead admitting it, he’s really missed her.

Finally, his mum lets him go, revealing his dad standing beside her. He looks worried, and relieved, and flustered - and a bit like he’s just gotten out of bed. He probably has, Al thinks. He wonders, for a moment, about when the school would have contacted them… was it before or after Madame Pomfrey had the situation under control? Maybe that’s why they’re both so mad.

“Son,” his dad says, accompanied by a nod and squeeze of his shoulder. “Good to see you’re doing well.”

“Thanks, dad. You too,” he replies, although he’s half-joking because his dad really does not look well. His hair’s a complete mess and he looks a big mix of angry and exhausted.

“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Potter,” Scorpius says politely from his chair, and both of Al’s parents start as if they’ve only just realised he was there.

“Hi, Scorpius,” his dad says with a tired but genuine smile. “Professor McGonagall told us what happened. We’re extremely grateful to you. I’m glad Al has such a good friend at Hogwarts looking out for him.”

“Thanks,” Sco replies shyly, and Al’s heart almost melts. “I’m just glad I got him here in time.”

“As are we,” Mr. Potter replies with a kind smile.

“So what’s going to happen now?” James interrupts from the corner, his arms crossed.

“Your father and I are going to get to the bottom of this,” his mum says tensely, and Al can tell she’s trying to hold back her anger. “And until then, we’ve decided to let you stay at Hogwarts.”

“Safest place in the world, Hogwarts,” their dad adds in agreement.

James breathes out a sigh of relief. It’s only now that Al remembers there’s a very important Quidditch game coming up next weekend that both James and Scorpius would hate to miss. It’s the semi-finals, Gryffindor vs Slytherin. If Gryffindor doesn’t win, it’ll be James’s last ever game at Hogwarts.

“However,” their mum says sternly - and Al should have known there would be a _however_ because there usually is with his mum - “You’ve got curfews. You get up, you go to class, and you go back to your dorm. That’s it. No wandering, no unsupervised activities of any kind, and definitely no mischievous adventures.” She directs that last part to James, and he gawks back.

“What? You can’t do that! We’ll go mad!” James argues.

“He’s right, mum, don’t you think that’s a tad extreme?” Al says.

“Yes, I can do that, and no, I do not,” she fights back. “Extreme is nearly losing my son to a raving lunatic wannabe son-of-a-”

“ _Ginny_ ,” Al’s dad interrupts her gently. “What your mother means is that we’re very concerned with sorting this out, and until we’ve learned how we can stop it from happening again, we’re not going to take any chances. Understood?”

Al and James share a look, before sighing and nodding their agreement. There’s no point arguing with their parents about this sort of thing.

“Good,” he says.

“So how long do I have to stay in here?” Al asks.

His parents share a look.

“Another day, at least,” his mum replies. His dad nods.

“Ugh,” Al groans, and falls back onto the pillow. “I hate hospitals.”

“I know, love,” his mum says. “But it’s for your own good.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” he mutters. “It feels like everyone’s just waiting for my bones to spontaneously break.”

“Everyone’s just a little on edge, son, as I’m sure you can understand,” his dad says. “We need to make sure you’re absolutely okay.”

“Well, I am _fine_. Honestly. I could probably get up on a broomstick and fly around with how fine I feel.”

His parents both share a look, and then chuckle. Al sours at this.

“Such a Slytherin” his mother says, a hint of amusement in her tone.

“No amount of time in the hospital wing can fix your ridiculous fear of flying,” James retorts.

“Oi, you don’t know that. Maybe it could.”

“I very seriously doubt it,” his mum contributes. “It’s been deeply ingrained into you since you were just a tiny thing. Merlin knows where you picked it up from.”

“I don’t know, mum, maybe from that time I was four and watched you plummet to your near-death and break ten bones,” Al retorts.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, I was perfectly okay,” his mum replies, waving the memory away like breaking half the bones in your body is an every day occurrence.

“Yeah, after a week in St Mungos. And I was four, I didn’t know you were going to be fine!” Al says.

“You always were a worrier,” his mum says.

“Well, now you’re all being worriers, because I am fine and really do not need to be here,” Al tries to bargain.

“It’s not happening, Al. Listen to Madame Pomfrey, take your potions, don’t cause any trouble, and we’ll be in touch soon,” his mum orders.

“Take care of him, okay?” his dad smiles at Scorpius, who nods dutifully. “Good lad.”

His mum kisses Al on the forehead, then both his parents say goodbye and leave Al’s private wing with James in tow. Scorpius and Albus are, once again, left alone.

“Barking mad,” Al says, shaking his head. “My family is mental.”

“They’re alright, Al,” Scorpius says. “They’re just looking out for you.”

“I know,” Al sighs. “But can you believe that? Solitary confinement for an indefinite amount of time.”

Scorpius rolls his eyes. “It’s not solitary confinement, Al. You can still go to class and meals.”

“It’s pretty close.”

“I’ll stay with you.”

“No, Scorpius, save yourself!” Al says, dramatically grave. “It’s too late for me - go find yourself a nice Hufflepuff girl and settle down in the country. Just pray for me!”

“Git,” Scorpius says, poking him in the ribs.

“A living, breathing git,” Al gloats proudly. “I can’t wait until they find the bastard so things can go back to normal.”

“Do things go back to normal after you’ve survived a near-death experience?” Scorpius asks, genuinely curious.

“I don’t know,” Al says thoughtfully. “I guess we’ll find out, huh?”

“I guess so.”

 


	4. Dark Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose comes to apologise. Albus meets someone new and mysterious.

The next day goes by slowly - Madame Pomfrey forces Scorpius to go to class, and Al is left to twiddle his thumbs alone in the infirmary all day. She feeds him four potions in the space of one hour, each one more ghastly than the last, and Al thinks he could probably do a better job at whipping up something for himself than her stock-made collection on the shelf. Unfortunately, Al isn’t going to be allowed to even _look_ at a cauldron outside of Potions class for the next… well, however long it takes his dad to figure out this whole mess. It could be a day, or it could be longer than Al cares to think about.

The only thing to entertain him is a small bird that keeps trying to break in through the window. It’s a freezing day outside, and the hospital wing is cold enough that Madame Pomfrey’s refusing to open any of the windows, but this determined little bird is not giving up hope. It picks at the glass with its beak, flapping its wings to try and push its way through. It may be a little dumb, but a quitter it is not. Al grows fond of the little thing after watching it for several hours. The bird’s feathers are a bright blue colour with stripes of grey swirled in a strange pattern, but Al finds it pretty. He also finds the bird extremely odd for wanting to be inside when it has the entire world at its claws.

“Go on, then, go utilise your freedom. There’s nothing here for you but terrible potions and a sick boy,” Al says to it.

The bird cocks its head at him stubbornly, and although he feels more than a little ridiculous, Al is sympathetic to its cause. After all, they both want something they can’t have.

“I’d let you in if I could, little bird,” Al says sadly. “Looks like we’re both stuck inside our own cages.”

If Al didn’t know any better, he’d say the bird looks disappointed in him.

“Oh, don’t give me that look. ‘Snot my fault.”

The bird ruffles it’s feathers, and then actually _sits down_ on the windowsill outside, its body pressed up against the glass defiantly. Al shakes his head at the ridiculous sight. He must be going barking mad if he’s resorted to talking to birds. Al sighs and leans back on his pillows, staring up at the off-white ceiling, and starts counting squares on the strange wallpaper pattern. Once he gets into the hundreds, he loses count and drifts off to sleep.

* * *

 “ _Albus_!” comes a shrill voice from the entrance, and Albus immediately jolts awake. Before he can figure out what’s going on, he’s engulfed by a warm body and a thick mess of curly red hair.

“Rose,” he gasps, the wind knocked out of him. He glances briefly at the windowsill - the bird is gone.

“Oh, _Albus_ , Merlin, I’m so sorry, I had no idea what I was doing! And then it was like I’d woken up from a dream and then I remembered everything - it was awful - oh I’m so, so _sorry_!” Rose has tears in her eyes, her face is red and puffy like she’s been crying all day.

Behind her, Scorpius enters, breathless from running. “Sorry, Al - I tried to stop her-”

“It’s okay,” Al says sleepily, rubbing at his eyes. “I was just passing the time with a nap.”

“Oh, did I wake you? I didn’t mean to - only I just… if you need some more time to recover first I can-”

“No, don’t be daft. It’s good to see you,” Albus says, and he means it. He’s spent the entire day alone and now any face is a welcomed one, even one as frantic and upset as Roses’s. He can only imagine how guilty she must be feeling, and the least he can do is make it clear he doesn’t blame her. “Is class for the day over already?”

“Oh - yes,” Rose says, and then dives into her book bag to produce a book and some parchment. “History of Magic and Transfiguration. I took notes for you, and got you the homework - you know, so you won’t fall too far behind.”

Albus and Scorpius share a dubious glance. They both know this is Rose’s way of apologising - one of the only ways she knows how - but right now Albus couldn’t think of anything worse. Still, he forces a smile, takes the pile of school work, sets it down on the bedside table, and thanks her graciously.

“How are you feeling?” Scorpius asks him, sitting down on the edge of the bed while Rose takes the chair.

“I’m _fine_ ,” Al insists. “Except for these horrid potions Pomfrey keeps shoving down my throat.”

“I hope you’re taking them,” Rose says disapprovingly, and Al rolls his eyes.

“Of course I’m taking them, I’m not an idiot.”

She raises her eyebrow, looks pointedly at Scorpius and back, as if to say ‘you are a _complete_ idiot, because you are still lying to your best friend about your very gay, very intense love for him’. Maybe not in so many words, but the intention is definitely there, and Al does not appreciate it one bit. He scowls at his own hands, refusing to validate her nonverbal accusation with a response. Scorpius, miraculously, does not seem to notice their little exchange.

“How’s Hugo holding up?” Albus asks, trying to change the subject.

“He’s okay,” Rose says, frowning slightly. “Shaken up, obviously, as is everyone else. But you know how Hugo is - he’ll be okay.”

Rose doesn’t sound entirely convinced by this, and Al’s chest squeezes. He’s only just starting to realise how much the attack is going to effect their family.

“I saw Lily this morning,” Scorpius pipes up. “Seems like she’s taking out her anger in a… healthy way.”

“Quidditch pitch?” Al guesses.

“Yep.”

“Did she break any bludgers this time?” Rose asks warily.

“I didn’t stay long enough to find out,” Scorpius says.

“Wise man,” Albus says, “I knew I kept you around for a reason.”

“What, saving your life isn’t enough?” Scorpius retorts.

“Radical terrorists are nothing. Protect me from an angry Lily Potter, then we’ll talk.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Rose says dryly, looking at the two of them like they’re from another planet.

“How long’s our curfew?” Al asks, turning to Rose.

“Erm… it’s not exactly _our_ curfew,” Rose says, looking away awkwardly, but Al notices the tinge of a smug smile appear before she can cover it up.

He frowns at her, trying to figure out what on earth _that_ means… until the realisation hits him like a slap in the face.

“You haven’t got one, have you?” he demands. “Why not?”

Albus notices that Scorpius immediately becomes more alert at the change of tone, sitting up taller and perching slightly forward, but staying silent and cautious.

“I’m a prefect,” she says, like this should explain it.

“ _I’m_ a prefect too!” Al exclaims.

“Yes, but I’m a _trustworthy_ prefect. They know I’m not going to run off and create trouble for myself.”

“…I resent that,” Al says stubbornly, because he doesn’t want to admit that she’s probably right.

After a moment he realises it also probably has something to do with the fact that Rose is much better at wandwork than Al (which isn’t hard, most people are) and they know Rose will have a fighting chance if she has to defend herself against anything. And _that_ hurts more than Al would care to admit. Scorpius’s expression turns sympathetic, so he must be thinking the same thing, which only makes Al more self-conscious. So he just sighs, leans back, crosses his arms, and looks away from both of them.

“It won’t be long,” Rose tries to say reassuringly.

“I appreciate the wishful thinking, but you don’t know that,” Al replies.

“If it makes you feel any better, they’ve literally assigned someone to watch James around the clock,” Rose says.

“Of course they would,” Al mutters. But she’s right, it does make him feel a bit better.

“Besides, we’re lucky they didn’t decide to take us all home,” Rose pushes on.

Albus glances over at Scorpius, who’s still staring at him. He’s not used to Sco watching him so carefully, so thoughtfully, so… _worried_. A rush of warmth spreads through his body now that he’s thinking about how much Scorpius cares, and he realises that maybe Rose is right on this account. If they’d taken everyone home, he’d be apart from Scorpius at least a week, and he never coped very well with that as it is.

“Yeah, I guess so,” he says quietly, answering Rose - but looking at Scorpius.

Scorpius’s cheeks flush a little, and then they look away awkwardly. When Al looks back at Rose, she raises an eyebrow, and he pretends not to know what she’s thinking, though he certainly does. Rose thinks that Scorpius knows Al’s flirting and is, in fact, flirting back. But they’re not _flirting_ \- no, definitely not - this is just how Scorpius is. This is just how their very platonic, infuriatingly bromance-y, friendship is. Ugh.

“As much as I would love to stay and third wheel,” Rose says tersely, “I have a _lot_ of homework to catch up on.”

She starts to get up, and Al looks at her in shock. His jaw drops faster than ever before. He tries desperately not to look at Scorpius, but he can’t help himself - he has to know what the reaction to Rose’s comment is. So he glances, just quickly, and Scorpius is staring at Rose with the strangest look on his face, one Al has never seen before and can’t figure out _at all_. Then he sees Al looking at him, and quickly looks away. Oh gods. It’s so awkward and Al wants to disappear into the floor and never return.

“Take care, Al,” Rose says, then she looks at Scorpius. “Try and keep him out of trouble, will you?”

Scorpius nods stiffly, obviously still affected by her previous comment. Al’s chest tightens at how clearly uncomfortable Scorpius is, but he tries not to let it show.

“Bye, Rose,” Al says, a new edge in his tone. “Thanks for the… homework.”

“Anything for you, Albus,” she answers with a sickly sweet smile. Then she turns on her heel and leaves. A silent moment passes.

“Scorpius,” Albus says, phrasing it like a question even though he doesn’t have anything to ask.

“Yeah?” Scorpius replies, finally looking back. It’s enough to spur Al into coming up with something on the spot - anything that will help him avoid spilling his guts until he says something he regrets.

“What’s it like out there?” Al says quickly.

A new look of worry takes over Scorpius’s face, and Al can tell he’s deliberating on how much to say.

“It’s, er… a little more chaotic than usual.”

Al smiles. It’s such a careful, diplomatic answer.

“So, rioting in the halls? Gryffindors swinging from chandeliers and Hufflepuffs hiding out in the kitchen? I always knew my near-death would create such mayhem.”

Scorpius snorts, rolling his eyes. “Not quite that bad.”

“Well then, I am disappointed,” Al says dead-pan, a hand on his heart.

“Fair warning, though,” Scorpius says carefully, “your ‘near-death’ triggered a school-wide dorm search. They found recreational Gillyweed in Indra Flint’s trunk and he’s not exactly thrilled about it.”

Al’s heart sinks. “Great. Just what we need. Another reason for Flint to hate me.”

Scorpius winces a little. “I’m sorry, Al.”

“No, nah, it’s okay. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“After everything that’s happened, I wouldn’t blame you if you couldn’t.”

“Scorpius. It’s fine. I will be fine,” he says it a little too forcefully, defensive, but Scorpius chooses not to say anything - and for that, he is grateful. “Right. So. When are we breaking me out of here?”

Scorpius manages a small smile. “Not just yet. Healer’s orders. I’m not risking losing you after such a close call.”

“And how exactly will you continue to minimise that risk? Track my whereabouts 24/7?”

“That’s exactly what I intend on doing.”

There’s a pause as Albus takes this in and deliberates on which response to go for. Scorpius is bantering, of course, but Al can also tell there’s truth to it. Surprisingly, he doesn’t feel like skirting around the issue with another joke.

“You know you don’t have to do that, right?”

“I know, Al,” Scorpius smiles, kind and simple.

And just like that, Al’s stomach explodes with butterflies.

How is he supposed to keep his feelings at bay when Scorpius keeps making such sweet and supportive gestures like this? Al has to remind himself that this is just the way Scorpius is - kind-hearted and genuinely wants to help. He doesn’t actually want anything more than plain and simple friendship.

Which is a major problem for Albus, because while wants to give Scorpius everything that he could ever want… plain and simple friendship is getting harder and harder to provide as the days go by.

* * *

 As it turns out, James is not the only person who gets assigned an Auror around-the-clock.

By ten, Scorpius has already been shooed back to their dorm. By eleven, things take a bit of a turn.

Madame Pomfrey enters, and Albus winces in anticipation of whatever disgusting potion she’s going to make him take next. But, to his surprise, she’s here for a different reason.

Albus is about to open his mouth when he sees the _huge_ older man following her into the private section of the hospital wing.

“Mr. Potter,” Madame Pomfrey starts, managing to sound both disinterested and dissatisfied at the same time. “You are free to go. This is Mr. Lenkov. He will be guarding you indefinitely, as per your father’s wishes.”

The man is literally huge. There is nothing inconspicuous about this guy - he’s very obviously a deadly bodyguard, and you could pick him out from a mile away.

Al knows it’s rude, but he can’t help blurting out: “Why haven’t I ever seen you before?”

And yes, while rude, Al thinks it’s legitimate question. He’s seen all the aurors at one point or another. When they were younger, his family knew James was going to take after their mum and become a Quidditch legend. They were hoping Albus would follow in his dad’s Auror footsteps, so Al always got dragged to work and usually sat in on meetings (wherever he was classified to do so, of course). Once Al got into second year and they realised how abysmal his DADA grades turned out to be, the dream died and his dad stopped bringing him along. Still, in that time, he’d become friendly with most of the aurors, and he would absolutely remember if he’s seen this guy before. Which he definitely hasn’t.

The man barely reacts to his question, just keeps on staring - although his slight and probably-permanent scowl deepens.

“Mr. Lenkov is new to the Auror department. He arrived in England only a few months ago,” Madame Pomfrey impatiently explains.

Nothing suspicious about that, Al thinks. But to be fair, his dad isn’t stupid. If this guy is being trusted with Al’s life, he must be pretty damn good at his job. He certainly looks it, anyway.

“Okay. Great. So now I’m being guarded 24/7, too. Got any other good news for me?”

“Yes. Here are your potions. Take the red ones before breakfast and the black at noon. The black ones will likely induce nausea, so be sure to keep a bucket nearby.”

She hands him a sack filled to the brim, with zero compassion. Albus groans. It’s going to be a long week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait! School had to come first for a little while.
> 
> This chapter's title is named after 'Dark Days' by Punch Brothers.
> 
> I also now have a tumblr for anyone interested! nerisella.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> This story and its title are inspired by "Be Alright" by Lucy Rose, a song your author was listening to when she felt compelled to write this fic.
> 
> Some characterisations are inspired by This Is Really Now, a livejournal story by clovermews and edgewareroad (TiRN is so beautiful guys go read it)


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